So far, this year has been a whirlwind of life. It’s like I’ve been stuck inside the hurricane at the start of The Wizard of Oz. I got knocked over the head with a heavy window shutter and ever since have been staring, boggled, as chicken coops, two men rowing a canoe, and my next door neighbour/evil wicked witch of the west cycled past my house.
I feel far too young for this kind of adventure.
But, for the first time in a long time, the winds feel like they’re dying down. My house is not being thrown around and shaken up quite so violently. Toto has stopped barking in fright.
And colour is seeping back into my world.
I feel shiny and new and excited. I feel inspired and creative and grand. I feel like a beginning, a middle and a future. I feel old and wise, and young and foolish. I feel breathless and giggly and in love.
People say you don’t realise what you have until it’s gone. I don’t agree with that. I think if you’re worth your salt then you know full well what you have. I think the real pain and regret comes when you know you don’t have that special thing any more. You wouldn’t feel that pain if you had no knowledge of the happiness it brought you.
I have always known how lucky I am. I treasure my life and everyone I have in it, because they are what make me me. I wouldn’t know what to do without a little brother to make a cardboard tardis and go time travelling with every once in a while. I wouldn’t know who to giggle about sex with if I didn’t have a sister and all my girlfriends. I wouldn’t know what protection was without a father to hide behind. I would be categorically lost without my mother and best friend. And as for a life without the man I love, a life without love?
That wouldn’t be living.
My pain has come from knowing I had lost some of these things. That I had maybe lost a little piece of me, and now I was just a wonky mimic of what I once was; a figurine on the mantle, balancing precariously on one leg, about to wobble into the flames below.
But now, I’m back. I have rediscovered my love of life, I have rediscovered my love of love. I am about to step out of my shady, wooden, dreary house and meet some munchkins.
Just call me Dorothy.